


Solace

by blueraccoon



Series: Gibbs/Reid [4]
Category: NCIS/Criminal Minds
Genre: BDSM, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2009-06-26
Updated: 2009-06-26
Packaged: 2017-10-12 23:17:09
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,251
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/130226
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/blueraccoon/pseuds/blueraccoon
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Not how I thought I'd spend my weekend.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Solace

**Author's Note:**

> You can read all the stories in this...set? quartet? thing? under the [Gibbs/Reid tag](http://blueraccoon.livejournal.com/tag/gibbs/reid). Start at the bottom and work up. This one really won't make sense without reading the others. It also didn't go the way I was hoping for but have you ever tried to tell these two what to do?

Reid doesn't mean to fall asleep after lunch, but he ends up on Gibbs' couch with a book on woodworking and a soft blanket he's pretty sure is handmade. Five pages in and he's yawning, ten...and suddenly it's darker in the room and Gibbs is stroking his hair. Reid stretches, blinks, nuzzling into Gibbs' hand without really realizing what he's doing. "Time is it?" he murmurs.

"Almost six," Gibbs says. "When's the last time you got a decent night's sleep?"

"Last night," Reid says, pushing himself up into a sitting position. "Before that...I don't remember. Doesn't matter."

Gibbs sits next to him on the couch. "Wasn't just one bad case, was it?"

Reid glances at Gibbs. "I never said it was a case."

"Give me some credit," Gibbs says with a snort.

"I don't really want to get into it," Reid says. He shoves his hair back. "What agency are you with?"

"Does it matter?" Gibbs asks.

"No." Reid blows out a breath. "I guess not."

"NCIS," Gibbs says after a moment. "You're Bureau, aren't you?"

"Behavioral Analysis Unit." Reid looks down at his hands.

"Profiler." Gibbs nods. "Figured." He reaches over, rubbing the back of Reid's neck with strong fingers. "Turn around."

Reid does, unable to hide the groan when Gibbs begins massaging his shoulders. "It was--there were a couple bad cases in a row," he says, closing his eyes. "I got--pretty sick, and then...this last one was..." He swallows. "I don't really think I can talk about it."

"Don't tell me you got plague," Gibbs says, almost under his breath.

"Pneumonic plague? No." Reid manages the ghost of a smile. "Anthrax, and I probably shouldn't be telling you that."

"Sounds like you need to tell someone," Gibbs says, digging his thumbs into the nape of Reid's neck. "And I'm here."

"Yeah." Reid tips his head forward. "I guess so."

He tries not to think too much about why that is. Why Gibbs is here. Why _he's_ here. "I don't know why I'm here," he says, almost to himself.

Gibbs is quiet for a moment. "You have anywhere else to go, Spencer?"

His name on Gibbs' lips makes him start a little in surprise. Not enough to forget the question. "No," he says softly.

"I gave you my card for a reason," Gibbs says after a pause.

"You wanted me to call, didn't you?" Reid asks.

"Wouldn't have given you my number if I didn't," Gibbs says. "Didn't necessarily want it to be under these circumstances, but yeah, I wanted you to call."

Reid wants to ask why at the same time he's not sure he wants to know. It doesn't matter. He twists back to look at Gibbs, eyes searching his face in the fading sunlight. "Why were you at that club?" he asks finally.

Gibbs drops his hands and Reid turns to face him fully, tucking one leg under himself. "Because sometimes I don't want to be in my head, either," Gibbs says, brushing his thumb over Reid's cheek. "And that's as good a place as any to go."

Reid leans forward and kisses him, softly at first. Gibbs' hand slides into his hair, pulling him a little closer. He nips at Reid's lips, coaxing him to open his mouth, and Reid shivers, falling into Gibbs. "I want--" he whispers. "Let me--" He doesn't have the words to define what he wants, only kisses and hands fumbling with Gibbs' t-shirt.

He ends up straddling Gibbs on the worn couch, Gibbs gripping his hands to give him leverage as he sinks down, arched back and gasping for breath. It's exactly what he wanted and as he moves on Gibbs, he closes his eyes, focusing wholly on his body, on its reactions. Chemistry and biology and physics, that's all this is, and if he thinks about it he can specify each reaction and where it originates.

It doesn't matter. The how and why and facts of this don't matter, only the way he feels, filled and stretched and trembling with desire, his breath coming in short little broken moans and pants, his lips dry and his cock aching. "Yeah," Gibbs murmurs. "Beautiful."

"Touch--touch me--" Reid shifts to rest his hands against Gibbs' chest. "Please--"

"Yeah," Gibbs says, his voice hoarse. "Yeah." He wraps his hand around Reid's cock, jerking him off. Reid moans, biting his lip to try and focus, to keep moving.

He doesn't know who comes first, him or Gibbs, and he doesn't care. He cries out, sharp and shattered, hearing Gibbs groan at the same time, and the world turns into spots of white light and a roaring in his ears. He's vaguely aware of shifting so Gibbs can pull out, the condom getting dealt with somehow before the two of them sprawl over each other on the sagging cushions. Reid closes his eyes, his head on Gibbs' chest, and ignores everything except Gibbs absently stroking his hair.

"Not how I thought I'd spend my weekend," Gibbs says after a while.

Reid laughs. He has to. "I have to admit, this wasn't one of the ways I expected to occupy my time, either," he says. He props his chin on Gibbs' chest and looks at him. "I think--maybe you needed it as much as--" He stops, unable to go there, even though they both know it's true. "I think you needed this weekend too," he says instead.

Gibbs smiles a little. "Told you at the beginning, this isn't just for you," he says.

"Yes, you did." Reid puts his head down again. "Bad case?"

"Yeah." Gibbs sighs, beginning to stroke Reid's hair and the back of his neck again. "Yeah."

Reid doesn't ask him for more details. "If I hadn't called, would you have gone back to the club?" he asks instead.

"Don't know," Gibbs says. "Hadn't thought about it before you did."

"I almost went there," Reid says softly. "Instead of calling you."

"Why didn't you?" Gibbs asks.

"I don't know." Reid closes his eyes. "I took a chance, I suppose. Better someone I vaguely knew rather than someone I didn't know at all."

"I can understand that."

"Yes, I'm sure." Reid shifts a little, scratching at the dried semen on his stomach. "I need a shower."

"Think we both do," Gibbs says. "You go first."

"Thank you." Reid disentangles himself slowly and gets to his feet, stretching for a moment. He pauses to look down at Gibbs, thinking he should say something but not having the words.

Gibbs looks up at him. "Chinese for dinner?" he asks.

It's so normal, so mundane, that Reid has to suppress the urge to giggle hysterically. "Anything but pork," he says. "I'm--kind of off that at the moment."

"All right." Gibbs sits up. "Go shower. I'll order."

"Okay." Reid pushes his hair back. "Okay."

Before he gets into the shower, he checks his phone out of habit. No phone calls, but there are two text messages from Garcia, asking him to check in. Reid smiles a little and sends one back. "With a friend," he types. "See you Monday."

She'll ply him for details, he has no doubt, but he's got a couple days to figure out what to tell her. For right now, it's enough to shower and scrub his skin with Gibbs' soap and let himself relax under the hot water.

The rest of the world can wait, just for a few more hours. It owes him that much.


End file.
